Storm in the Parchwood
by reprobategamer
Summary: Set after the defeat of the Chroma Conclave, and after the banishment of Vecna, Whitestone is aware of a new, organised group of bandits operating in the Parchwood Timberlands. The Grey Hunt have so far been unable to track them so what happens next?


The Dungeon Master walked over to the glowing pedestal in the middle of the room, affixing the blindfold as he moved. The polyhedral shapes that orbited him stayed cleared of the tome, floating in one place and showing that is was indeed possible for a magic book to chew on a quill.

The Dungeon Master glared at it until the book sheepishly opened, released the quill, which the dungeon master used to make a few notes then left, deliberately on a nearby table. He moved over to the glass fronted cabinets with the ornate models instead and pondered a moment, then picked several figures from one and placed them into a foam lined tray. He moved along to a second and picked up several more then returned to the pedestal.

"Now then," he murmured to himself, "let's bring it in."

The glow coming from the pedestal flared and visible within shapes formed. These resolved into the realm of Exandria and the continents of the material realm …

… then it shifted to just Tal'Dorei …

… then to the Alabaster Sierras in the north west corner …

… down into the Patchwood south and east of Whitestone …

… then into a shaded hollow …

… where a number of figures passed through the trees. One stumbled and was roughly caught and pushed onwards before falling. The group continued without a pause, pushing their way through the thick undergrowth, which glistened and gleamed in the rain, mud sticking to their boots. Most of the group had on similar shades and mismatched armour; the one who stumbled had a long blue coat.

After an hour of travel, the figure leading the group motioned for them all to halt. Several sank against trees, or upon protruding roots. Others remained vigilante at the edges, as did several encircling the figure in blue, bows partially drawn and aimed in their direction.

The group paused for twenty minutes or so, with those who were maintaining a vigil switching places with their compatriots midway, the figure in blue remaining under guard for the duration.

With a low whistle, the group leader started up again and the remainder fell in behind them, continuing on their path as the land began to rise up to meet the peaks of the mountains. It was another thirty minutes or so then the trees suddenly thinned as the group came upon a hollow.

The group paused as the leader made a call like that of a bird. There was a moment's tension then an answering call came out of the treetops and the group began to descent

A camp became visible in the area which was set on an old river bed and a number of larger trees had watchout platforms built into their boughs. Longbow armed lookouts tracked the group as they approached, whilst others kept an eye on the perimeter. A number of short palisades were set between trees, largely designed to increase angles of fire from the lookout positions. Beyond the palisades was a mix of tents and some rough wooden dens.

The group came into the centre of the camp, where a simple woodland hut stood. Other members of the camp came to stand around the group, assembling in front of the hut. The figure in blue was pushed to their knees, hands bound in front of them.

The door to the hut was flung open and a goliath squeezed himself through the human sized door. He took a moment to look over the group.

"Well?" He barked.

The group leader, who certainly had goliath blood in their heritage, grinned cruelly.

"De ambush worked great, boss. We took out a bunch o' dose White Guard and left dem thinking we did head in 'nother direction. An' we captured the big man 'ere."

The head goliath's grin was evil as he looked down at the blue coated figure in the mud before him.

"A good day to you," he said mockingly, gestured to the figures now surrounding them, "welcome to my court."

The goliath reached down and took the figures chin in one meaty hand forcing his head up.

"And just what should we do with you, I wonder? What should we do with the Lord of Whitestone? What should we do with Percy de Rolo?"


End file.
